


For all the Gold in the World

by Cordy69 (Pat)



Category: White Collar
Genre: Birthday Presents, Day Off, F/M, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 20:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10816323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pat/pseuds/Cordy69
Summary: They've institutionalized a weekly meeting of mea-culpa... And it works for them:)





	For all the Gold in the World

**Author's Note:**

> For itsmecoon birthday. I know we all wish you the best of birthday :) I hope it will be the stuff of legend but if not, I come bearing presents... LOL. I hope you like it sweety!

**For all the Gold in the World**

 

 

Peter liked the weekends. They were almost always quiet affairs... A walk to the neighborhood market, lazy afternoons on the couch watching portfolios of artists El wanted to showcase, opinions exchanged about the quality and statement made by the pieces they all selected, stupid fights over the remote control and games over the restaurants they wanted to try.

  

Overall, it would feel quite boring and domesticated to the folks at the office, well maybe. If it wasn't for the weekly review Neal was subjected to, it would be. 

 

As it is, that too feels easy. It became part of the routine, expected and not always awaited eagerly but a part of their lives now that they would all miss if suddenly it wasn't there anymore.

 

It's almost three in the afternoon and Neal was just setting down on the love seat after having served tea. It seemed such a bizarre request but he had a hankering for scones and couldn't imagine enjoying them with coffee. Anyway, the aroma was delicious and woke up everyone's appetite. Of course, he wished Peter would just appreciate the effort and the good food and forget about their <i>other</i> habit. However, he knew the man was a disciplined and principled spirit that wouldn't let him venture on the proverbial slippery slope.

 

They sipped the drinks in peace, El reclining against her husband, ankles resting on the opposite arm rest, turning slowly the pages of her magazine when Peter nudged him for his weekly mea culpa. She dropped the magazine on the coffee table and angled herself towards Neal, getting him pinned on the spot by two pairs of loving yet stern gazes. 

 

It always seem so unfair that he revert to being a kid in dire need of parental guidance when confronted by those two but it's like they have a direct path to his soul, his heart, his being. They know when he hurts, or when he misbehave, when he loves or when he hates, when he is ready to succumb to temptation or when he wants to give his all because the cause is so much bigger than the pettiness of regular life, and they certainly feel it when he doesn't want to or simply cannot adhere to societies expectation and they catch him before he fells, they embrace him when he loses it, they correct him and trust him again to be the best he can be.

 

It is hard to explain. He needs it, they need it and together they find that perfect line in the sand, the one no one knows about, and no other soul would understand. It is about Neal and Peter and El.

 

He didn't have a major bucket list of deeds to confess to, today. Still, it was a bit longer than he had wished. He really tried to be a good boy sometimes but the reality of it was that he simply was a complex man, who faltered at time, who acted before computing it all, and who will accept the discipline his mentor decide to dish.

 

That is where the calming influence of El came handy. She had a knack to see it both way and to find the silver lining they sometimes missed, and it made every correction fair, every plan of attack smarter, better, possible.

 

It had been hard at first to accept to take any punishment in front of her. Neal had feared being emasculated, somehow diminished. Instead, he found out that her being present and even involved resolved many of his problems, reducing them to the bare essential and helping him reach out to the positive, the vibrant, the unique in him.

 

Thanks to her motherly approach and to Peter's no-non-sense one he wasn't ashamed, he certainly wasn't fearful, he wasn't fully embracing the upcoming pain of a spanking but he was confident it was a bonding experience like no other for all of them.

 

Neal managed to look properly chastised by the lecture. He did agree on some of the points Peter made and agreed to disagree on the others. It's not like the outcome really depended on the amount of agreement they shared. He gave authority to Peter and he was going to abide by that informal consent. In principle. When Peter announced he had earned the paddle, he was less eager to comply. The tingling he felt on his yet untouched buttocks was like a phantom feeling that he could not shake and he quickly tried to commit to memory the comfort he was currently experiencing seating on the loveseat.

 

He rose to pick up the dreaded implement, and came back to a different scene, both Burke's standing behind the sofa, Peter looking mighty with his sleeves rolled back to his elbows, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, looking the part of the firm disciplinarian he was at this time. El offered him an encouraging smile and he went forward, giving the dreaded implement to Peter before dropping his pressed pants to pull around his ankles. 

 

There was something humbling in having the tails of his shirt covering his behind, and his pants hindering his movements like a kid, he didn't have time to ruminate on it though as Peter guided him towards the back of the sofa, and pushed him forward with his forearm on the back. He felt the breeze from the fan on the back of his thighs and tried to brace for the upcoming paddling, so he was surprised instead to feel the small hand of El spanking him rapidly instead. She didn't take a break, just peppered the cotton clad buttock with the energy of a scorned woman that couldn't understand why he couldn't behave. The heat became quickly unbearable and he started moving from left to right, hoping to escape the furious spanks and when the need to escape became to urgent he apologized.

 

It was a rushed apology because he really needed a moment to regroup, but it was enough to stop her and find a second wind. Neal wanted to rub the sting away but he had learned that lesson, so he picked a throw pillow and grabbed it close to his chest to drown his whimpering and focus him on something solid to hold on to. 

 

El had the paddle in her normally gentle hands and aimed squarely on the middle of his ass, and he felt it! She waited for almost a minute before hitting the exact same spot a second time. Neal hissed but stayed put. Elizabeth Burke had a great aim, she managed to add eight more of those stingers right on the fleshiest part of his behind making a statement he wasn't going to forget soon.

 

When she finally dropped the paddle next to his head against the back of the sofa, Neal had only one idea in mind, steal the damn thing and burn it away. A thought closely followed by his burning desire to soothe the fire she ignited. He didn't have a chance to entertain these anathema much longer as Peter hands were pushing his shirt much higher on his bend form, bundling the fabric under his armpit and making the target he had in mind impossible to miss.

 

Peter, like his petite wife, used his hand first, keeping Neal on his toes with the slow but heavy spanks that were randomly applied on the already punished backside. The poor young man shivered, his legs trembling with the effort made not to yelp every time his inflamed cheeks were touched but he stoically kept his voice low, grumbling in the pillow, thankful for the cotton boxer that still gave him a modicum of protection. 

 

When Peter stopped, he realized that El had taken the seat by his head and was nudging a small glass of water in front of him. He looked stubbornly at it and refused to take a sip of drop the pillow and run the risk of protecting his behind. She knew him too well though. El kissed him on his sweaty cheek and passed her manicured nails on his sweaty scalp, showering him with kindness and sweet encouraging words and he caved. Neal turned toward her and opened his mouth, drinking slow sips of water, eventually aware of of how parched he was, forgetting for an instant the reason he was in this predicament and that his punishment wasn't over.

 

It is Pete, who was nudging his legs further apart that broke his concentration and made him spill a little of the cold liquid on El's hand. He looked over his shoulder and immediately regretted the impulse. The man looked quite imposing with the paddle in his hands, the veins on his forearms prominent, the look on his face serious...

 

He aimed for his left thigh, and like his wife didn't do it particularly hard or with viciousness but on the virgin skin it burned like hell! Neal jumped at once and it's only El's tight embrace that kept him from putting his hands behind in the hope of stopping the freaking session of discipline. The right thigh elicited about the same response. It is when Peter aimed on his seat spot a second time and lifted his buttock with the paddle that he cried. Inconsolable at once, he did not have words to beg for the spanking to stop or beg for forgiveness or thank them for their caring love. He just surrendered to the pain and welcomed the release that came with it. Neal was clenching and unclenching his ass cheeks, feeling the impact of the paddle all the way to his toes. His snotty nose was getting congested and his mind muddled, somehow he felt like he was in a bubble. All his physical pain taking a backseat to his mental agony, the weight of the guilt finally lifted and the lull of the rhythm Peter had resonating inside his chest and bringing him a measure of peace.

 

Peter had stopped. Neal couldn't pinpoint when. He felt bruised, aching in muscles he had forgotten he had because of the restrain he was expected to have. The right shoulder was burning, he had cramps in his fingers, sweat running down his spine to his crack, making the position he was in even worse and that's what got him to slowly rise and turn toward his tormentor of a mentor who without hesitation engulfed him in a warm accepting hug.

 

The punished man sniffled a bit when he felt El nails scrape over the inflamed flesh peaking underneath his underwear but relished her heat when she pushed from behind in the large embrace of her husband. They were together! He was safe! And they had a loving bond he would not trade, for all the gold in the world.

 

** The End **

 

Comments and Crits are welcome (I really need to get better at writing this fandom and follow the inspiration).

.


End file.
